DOMESTIC

Once again the cat’s in charge
her whiskers her antennae her baton.
The southern window isn’t sunny
enough, she urges the strings
the tassels on the blinds.  Awake.
We’re stalked by daylight, shocked
by sheets.  A polyester storm
of shirts and blouses gathers
in the hamper.

Maestra Mouser glides
from window seat to closet
for the darker passages
and brings out lint,
blind creatures of the deep lost
untidy undersole
of our existence and

leads us down
to breakfast.
 

Taylor Graham
piper@innercite.com